


Breaking and Entering

by Leif Writes (FrankensteinsMomster)



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Gil is a good dad, Light Angst, Teenage Malcolm Bright, Young Malcolm Bright, malcolm stop commiting crimes your dad is a cop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22155178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankensteinsMomster/pseuds/Leif%20Writes
Summary: Teen Malcolm is a handful to say in the least but Gil tries his best to be a good Dad.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Gil Arroyo/Jackie Arroyo
Comments: 11
Kudos: 93





	Breaking and Entering

**Author's Note:**

> This can be read as both a stand-alone or a continuation of my story Christmas Time Is Here.

"Stop acting like you're my dad! I'm not some kid anymore Gil!" The words stung more than he'd like to admit. He wasn't surprised by them. The last few months, years if he was being honest, had led to this. And Malcolm was right in some ways. He wasn't a kid anymore. He sighed rubbing his head. The early morning light shone through the window and did nothing for his budding headache.

"Let’s just put that aside for now Malcolm. What I really want to know is why you were caught breaking into empty houses at two am," the teenager sat across the kitchen table from him, arms crossed, mouth pursed closed.

"And yeah, you're not a kid anymore. You're almost an adult. And if you keep on pulling shit like this you're going to get yourself arrested. Hell, you could have if the owner decided to press charges. You're lucky,-" Malcolm stood up, almost knocking his chair over in the process. 

"Oh I'm lucky," he said in a calm and furious voice, "yeah I'm so fucking lucky that my closest friend is the cop that arrested my father. I'm so lucky that my mom is an alcoholic and drinking herself to an early grave. I'm so lucky that I get kicked out of every school I go to because once the word gets out that the freak with a serial killer for a father is there they'll stop at nothing to get rid of me," he looked straight into his eyes, waiting for Gill to say something. He didn't. He knew nothing he said or did right now would quell the boy's anger. Anything he tried would be twisted into another reason to be mad. Instead, he watched the teen’s hands, shaking and clenching, wishing he could reach out to comfort him. Malcolm left, slamming the door behind him. 

Jackie walked in from the living room. She pushed the empty chair in and leaned against the counter, sipping from the cup she held in her hands. 

"If that boy breaks my door he's buying me a new one. Heaven knows he can afford it." She smiled at him and he felt the tightness in his heart ease slightly. He stood and wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. 

"Maybe I'll get one of those fancy ones with the built-in knocker. No, then I'd have to get him to break all the other ones so they'd match."

…

It was nearing midnight and he still couldn't relax. Still couldn't stop thinking about him. Without turning on the light he opened the drawer to his bedside table and quietly looked for the letter. When things with Malcolm got difficult, which they often did, he would reread it. He had written it to him that first terrible year. It was Christmas time and the impending trial of Doctor Martin Whitley was looming. He found it, worn and soft from the years of being kept in his wallet. He’d only removed it when he realized it was starting to fall apart. He left the room, house slippers and a robe on, and made his way to the guest room with the recliner. He didn’t really need to read the physical letter but holding the paper in his hands and seeing the boys print gave him a sense of purpose that remembering it didn’t. 

Dear Gil,

I'm not good at saying things out loud. Even before I stopped talking I wasn't good at it. I know I'm not an easy person to be around. But I want to tell you these things. My therapist told me it's important to share things with the people that matter to you. 

I wish you were my dad. I wish that I could live with you and Jackie. I wish I had friends and I could invite my friends over and we could eat pizza and watch movies. I wish I could eat pizza. I wish I was normal. I wish I wasn't me but I am. My therapist says I have to accept that. 

I'm glad you were the one that showed up at our house that night. I'm glad that you're part of my life. People on the news always talk about how great a person my father was but he wasn't. You don't yell at my mom when you think Ainsley and I are asleep. You hold me when I cry and don't tell me to stop. You don't go away for long work trips or yell at us for playing with your stuff. You don't make me feel like I have to be perfect. I didn't realize he was a bad dad until I met you.

My father always told me that I was going to do great things. That I'm a genius and a prodigy. I never wanted to be any of those things though. You make me feel like I can be just me. 

I know I can't change who I am. I know you can't actually be my dad but you can be my best friend. I know Jackie is your best friend because she is your wife but I hope I can be your second best friend. Merry Christmas Gil.

Love,   
Your friend,  
Malcolm

...

The click of the front door opening woke him up. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep. He looked at his watch, 2:00 a.m. glaring back at him. He headed down the stairs without turning the lights on. The teenager was there, pacing the living room. 

"You didn't even bring your gun. What if I was robbing your house," he asked. 

"What are you going to take? You know I don't have anything good."

"I didn't break-in," Malcolm dug his hand into his jacket pocket and fished out a ring of keys.

"Ah, you remembered how to use keys" Gil flipped the light on before sitting on the couch. "Come on, take a seat," he patted at the cushion beside him. "Or stand. I'm sitting," he sighed. Malcolm ran his hand through his hair contemplating it before rolling his eyes and flopping onto the worn couch next to him. They sat in silence, the crack and hum of the heater keeping them company. It wasn’t until he heard the teens quiet sniffling that he turned to look at him. Tears ran down Malcolm’s face. 

“I know. I know it’s stupid. And I know it’s not a good reason. But Ainsley’s getting older and is normal enough to actually have friends and my Mother has her charity galas and you have your work and Jackie’s been sick and I- I started visiting him more often because I was so tired of feeling so fucking alone,” he put his arm around Malcolm and Malcolm rested his head against his chest like he used to when he was a boy. “And I can’t sleep,” he laughed, “I mean I never sleep but this is different. Worse.” Gil stayed quiet, waiting for Malcolm to finish. “It’s stupid and I’m so sorry Gil, I didn’t mean to let you down,” the teen wiped his face with his sleeve but the tears kept on coming, “I didn’t mean to make you worry. And I swear Gil, I promise you I always made sure the houses were empty first. I made sure the families were on vacation or business trips or whatever,” he looked up at Gil who nodded back at him.

“I just don’t understand Malcolm. Why?” He sighed for the umpteenth time.

“I don’t really remember how the idea came to me but I thought-” he paused to bite his lip, “I thought that if I could be in their homes, in their beds, that I could convince myself I was someone else. Just for a little while. Just for a few hours. Just so I could get some sleep. I-I know it’s stupid.” the man pulled him into a hug. 

"I'm sorry you feel like you have to be someone else, kid. If I had any wisdom I could share with you that would make all these night terrors and insomnia go away I would've told you it years ago.”

“ I know.”

“And I’m sorry. Not that I yelled. Well yes, that I yelled. But I’m sorry we made you feel like you were alone. Malcolm, you’re getting older and-”

“I know, I need to be more careful. I will. I promise.” Gil turned his body so he was facing him and wiped the remaining tears from the boys face. 

“Let me finish. You’re getting older and we were trying to give you some more space. To grow up, meet people, step out of your comfort zone a bit. You can’t live the rest of your life hanging out with us old folks. But we’re always here for you Malcolm. You’re always welcome in our home and our lives,” he squeezed him into a tight hug to accentuate his point. 

They sat in silence again. A comfortable one.


End file.
